Bal Harbour
by SomewhereApart
Summary: A movie, a little walk, a sunset, and a new beginning.


"Ugh, I am so full of popcorn I could bust," Calleigh groaned playfully as she chucked their nearly empty jumbo-size soda cup in the theater trash. Eric grinned at her and shook his head.

"Well, you ate two thirds of the bucket, Cal," he pointed out, tossing the bucket in question before following her out the door.

"I did not! We split it; I ate half." The evening air was balmy and warm, the sky just starting to turn colors in anticipation of sunset, and for just a moment Calleigh regretted spending the better part of her afternoon off in a dark movie theater. But then she remembered the way Eric had settled his arm against hers ten minutes into the movie, the way their hands had bumped in the popcorn bucket, and the silly schoolgirl-ish thrill it gave her. There would be plenty more work-free and sunny afternoons in Miami, she decided.

"If by half you mean your half, and then half of mine…" he teased, grinning at her, and cupping her elbow to reroute her when she started to head off the sidewalk in the direction of his car. "Let's go for a walk. The beach isn't far; there's a boardwalk just a few blocks away. I was going to suggest ice cream, but…"

"_Ugh_," she made a gagging noise and pressed a hand to her stomach, as a wave of nausea surfaced just at the thought. "Don't even _say_ that; I'd die."

"That's what I figured; let's just walk off the popcorn, watch the sun set over the water."

"Over Miami, you mean. Bal Harbour provides 'a scenic view of Biscayne Bay,'" she mocked, imitating every real estate brochure on the east side of Bal Harbour, before adding, "Marinas and Miami."

"You've got the ocean on the East," he reasoned. "Nice views there."

"Lovely sunrises," she conceded, "But we're on the wrong side of the day for that." He brushed against her slightly as they walked, and she had to swallow the urge to suggest he join her for one of the aforementioned sunrises one of these days. What was it about Eric lately that made her all gooey inside at regular intervals? They'd been friends for years, with all the requisite tension of two relatively attractive grown-ups in a close-quarters job, and they were certainly no strangers to flirtation, but something over the last year had shifted. Left her off-kilter and a little conflicted, but still somehow fascinated by the way they unfolded with the combination of this new brand of tension and their usual comfortable familiarity. It was as if they grew further from and closer to each other at the same time, and the dichotomy was maddening, setting her brain off in a million different directions when she was supposed to be analyzing firearms or getting a good night's sleep.

Even now it drew her from where she was, her attention snapping back when Eric gripped her wrist to stop her at a crosswalk. She felt the heat of mild embarrassment flush her cheeks and hoped he'd think she was just pinking up from the fading sun. "Penny for your thoughts?" No such luck.

"Oh, nothing," she tried to dismiss with a wave of her right hand – he still had his fingers wrapped around her left.

"Nothing nearly walked you into traffic?"

His tone was light and teasing, coaxing a small smile from her as she felt his thumb brush lightly up and down her wrist. Fascinating. Maddening. Distracting. "Just thinking. Nothing important."

"No?"

"Nope." She flashed him a grin then, and hoped it wasn't too bright to be convincing. "Just got lost in my brain for a minute, that's all."

"Ah." His hand slid down, fingers grazing her palm before he released her just as the light turned again. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, strolling slowly onto the boardwalk, and Calleigh decided to shut her brain off and just enjoy the evening. They stopped a few yards down the walk, Calleigh leaning against the rail and watching the boats in the marina nearby. Eric settled next to her, mirroring her position with his forearms on the railing, hands clasped together, foot on the bottom rung, but instead of watching the marina she felt him watching her.

She met his gaze, smiled, waited until his mouth curved warmly in return, then cast her gaze back out over the bay and studied the Miami skyline. He was close enough that she could smell his cologne, warm and familiar, and she took in a slow deep breath to saturate herself with it.

"Beautiful night," he murmured, breaking the silence that hung between them. She nodded, muttered something about the skyline view not being so bad after all, and he agreed with her absently as he shifted. She saw him pull back slightly, almost out of her peripheral and she straightened as if to follow, thinking he'd grown restless already and wanted to keep walking. But Eric proved her wrong a moment later when he shifted closer, one arm settling on each side of her, caging her loosely between his body and the rail. Calleigh's pulse knocked hard a few times, ratcheted up to a new, quicker pace as she felt how close his body was behind hers. His thumb snuck over, brushing against her knuckles as the sun dipped behind tall buildings, the sky blazing pink and orange now. He was opening the door for her, she realized, and now it was up to her to walk through it with him and let it shut behind them.

This wasn't how she'd imagined them happening. She'd always thought that the building tension between them would simply snap one day, lobbing them at each other from coiled trebuchets of lust and anticipation and frenzy. She'd imagined them collapsing in a breathless and sweaty heap on her kitchen floor or in the backseat of his car, not even making it to the bed, not even making it inside, and then wondering how they'd gotten there in the first place when they'd only been talking about work or his injury or her father. It hadn't occurred to her that they could be organic, that it could be a quiet choice, not an impulsive bang. But she supposed it should have, because this was them, Calleigh and Eric, and they were nothing if not quietly solid. So she let her little finger creep over and return the caress he'd offered her as her body shifted back just a little, lessening the distance between them but not closing it.

Eric moved closer until their bodies brushed, and Calleigh let her hand fall away from the rail, the other still gripping it tightly in nervous anticipation. She was unsurprised when he followed, his own hand lifting from the rail and starting a slow, whisper-soft caress from her bare shoulder to her elbow, goosebumps flaring in his wake as he continued down to weave his fingers with hers. She hesitated just a moment before tightening her fingers around his, another minute before she drew their joined hands to rest against her stomach, finally letting the weight of her body release back into his. So this was it, then. This was how they happened. Silently, at sunset, overlooking Biscayne Bay and the skyline of Miami, as the sun slid down behind buildings, beneath the horizon.

They stood there until the sky was dark and the stars came out, before she finally tipped her head up to find him waiting for her, lips meeting softly once, twice, a third time for good measure before she eased herself from his arms. "Take me home, Eric." His only response was to smile and lead her back the way they'd come, back to the car, and from there her house, and from there… well, they'd see, Calleigh decided. Somewhere new, and fascinating, and maddening, she was sure. But somewhere right.

He stopped her at the same crosswalk, asked again what she was so wrapped up in thought over, and she told him simply, "Us," and gave his hand a squeeze. And then she resolved to stop thinking. They would take care of themselves without the help of her overactive brain. They always had before.


End file.
